Rules for Hookups
by SixThings
Summary: They were all in college for heaven's sake. Heaven help if you caught feelings. Hookups were permitted, even encouraged, lest you became desperate, but dating and relationships, ooh, ick! College was the time about you. Excerpt only, story pulled for publication.
1. The Rules

A/N:

This is an excerpt only. The story has been pulled for publication and is available. Anne Morris, Rules for Hookups: a Pride and Prejudice Adaptation.

* * *

Chapter 1: The Rules

"Okay, first of all, two drink minimum."

Two young men sat at the next table over. There was an assortment of wrappers and bags spread around them as Lizzie took them in from her prime seat in front of the fireplace. They had not necessarily come to the Memorial Union just for coffee so much as to eat. A meal in-between classes had been put together from the pastries and pre-wrapped items which were available at the university coffee shop. They were younger than Lizzie and had that squeakiness about them that proclaimed _freshmen_ despite talking about drinking.

But they were leaning in to each other as though sharing something that was a secret (for all that she could hear them quite clearly)— _certainly_ it was enthralling. They were young men, but mature enough to be having, or considering having sex, and not boys. This was college after all. But Lizzie wondered just how experienced they were, and how much of a mantra (someone else's mantra), they were repeating.

The one giving the advice had short clipped hair. He looked like a sports player of some sort; his face still sported pimples. His friend was the type who was still playing catch-up on growth, looking lean of frame, and had long, dark curly hair.

"Don't ever get desperate man," said sports guy. "Being desperate puts girls off."

"Okay," said lanky, though Lizzie thought his face screamed desperate.

"No cuddling afterward. When you're done, you're done, and you just go your separate ways," continued sports.

"Really?" said lanky.

"Cuddling after sex implies you're building on something and you just don't do it," sports shook his head.

"I can't stay awake man!" wailed lanky. Liz wondered how lanky knew he might like to cuddle, but she knew exactly _how_ he knew he couldn't stay awake.

Sports guy looked at his friend and then shook his head. "You don't even really need to talk _during_. There's no assumptions. Just because you've done it once or six times doesn't mean you—or her—have any rights. It's not a relationship."

Lanky nodded. Lizzie frowned.

"And don't text for two days. Again, don't be desperate. Never compromise."

"Two days. What if it was great?" asked lanky.

" _Two_ days," sports stared down his friend. _"Don't catch feelings_. It's just about the sex."

Lizzie stood, then moved over to the men's table. She put a hand on the tabletop. "So, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," she began with a smile. It was a warm and inviting smile. It was her barista smile, the one that she plastered on her face every morning that she worked at the coffee shop not many yards away. The men leaned in. She continued.

"That two days rule. We get to use it too," she raised an eyebrow. "And you need to be willing to _talk_ —at least about your sex history. Are you free of STDs?" Lanky's eyes went wide. "What? Don't want to talk about sex, but you want to have it? That's part of growing up little man. And can we discuss condom use? Because you _will_ wear one!"

A figure looked up from the stack of books in front of him, his eyes darting from the young men over to the back of the woman's head. He had not really noticed her when he had sat down with his books and his coffee. He was reviewing Interior Construction and Detailing, but the conversation had caught his attention, particularly the woman's interruption. He thought back to being a freshman and not knowing _The Rules_. He narrowed his eyes as he listened. _What a bitch_ , he thought as she concluded her snippy little lecture.

The woman went back to her table. They both settled down to study.

* * *

Lizzie knew she did well at her early-morning coffee shift. So many of her fellow students were not morning people, and yet were tagged for or it volunteered for it—as if to get work out of the way. They wanted to fit it in around their class schedule, or around their social life. But for Liz, it was as matter of compartmentalizing things. She could finish work then go to class, then study, study, and study some more before she went to bed, slept, and then did it all over again.

The people at the Memorial Union coffee shop rotated through who took orders, and who processed drinks. Right then, Liz was working with busy hands at the espresso machine as she created made-to-order drinks.

"Diet Coke break," called out her co-worker, Annie. Lizzie glanced over the top of the machine. 'Diet Coke break' was Annie's code for 'cute guy in line.' It was a reference to a long-ago commercial which neither of them had seen, but Annie's mother had blathered on about loving when it appeared. In it, a group of office women took a break every day to watch a gorgeous and muscled construction worker drink a Diet Coke, which is why Annie's mother (single, like Lizzie's) had been so fond of it.

The phrase was innocuous enough that a guy in line would not understand that they were speaking about him. Lizzie looked at the assortment of college students in line; she understood which one Annie was referencing. There was a tall man with dark hair, it was expertly clipped. He used product. He styled it so it swept up from his forehead. He also had a nicely clipped beard which made her frown. So many college-aged men had beards these days. Like they couldn't be bothered to shave. His, at least, was neat and trim, even if longish.

Lizzie's hands kept working as her eyes roved and took in his appearance. He seemed a business or econ-major type. Not like any of the science majors she was used to working with. Not like her scruffy study-buddy Aaron. There was just something about this guy, the way he stood. He was a little _too_ put together for a college student (given that it was not quite eight in the morning), and given that beautifully displayed hair.

 _Arrogant_ , she thought as she looked at him. Annie came over to line empty cups up next to the espresso machine to wait for their contents. "So? What do you think?"

"Nothing to temp me there," said Lizzie. "I wonder what his tattoo looks like."

"What tattoo?" asked Annie, who stood on tiptoes to look at the guy as though she missed something.

"They always have tattoos. I've never known any guy with a beard who didn't have a tattoo to go with it."

"Oh," said Annie, who frowned as she considered that. "They do sort of pair up. You know…I think you're right."

"Every guy I've known with a beard had one," asserted Lizzie.

"It's the best looking face I've seen in a long time," said Annie, who then used her hand to fan herself.

"I'll admit he's good-looking," said Liz. "There's just. No." She shook her head. "There's something else besides his looks which makes him _not_ a temptation."

Lizzie couldn't help but notice that he became a regular early-morning customer. She was surprised she had never noticed him before, but thought he might be a transfer student. He appeared about the same age as her, a junior or a senior. Perhaps he had done community college and was transferring credits over to save money.

She rarely spoke to him; Lizzie always seemed to be on coffee-making duty whenever he came in. It was Annie who had the good fortune to speak to him and take his order. Her friend would always make a point of coming over to enlighten Lizzie about him.

"He's just so gorgeous to look at! I don't care if he's always curt. So many of them are when they're waiting for their coffee." Annie excused his behavior when it gave her morning-tired eyes something pleasant to look at.

"Well, what's his name?" asked Lizzie. "He must give his name when he orders coffee?"

"Will. His name is Will," said Annie.

"A common-enough name," Liz threw out. But Handsome Will became one of their regulars.

* * *

It seemed, wherever she went, that Lizzie ran into Annie's Will. He was a yard or two in front of her going into the main library one day, but the bastard didn't bother to hold the door for her.

It rained hard one day (a rarity), and Liz was hurrying to get to the bus stop to go home. She could see the bus sitting across the street. Lizzie got one foot in the crosswalk and was going to run across when a car zipped past. First of all, it didn't yield to her despite that foot in the cross walk, and secondly it splashed water from a pothole up against her jeans and soaked her. By the time it had passed, and Lizzie had checked for traffic again, the bus had pulled away. Liz thought she had recognized the bearded figure behind the wheel of the car.

She didn't know cars, so couldn't tell what type Handsome Will drove. Her family owned the one, and she was a Townie, mostly using the bus system to get around. And though she could drive, she rarely did since her mother needed the car for work. And Ms. Gardiner frequently fought with Lauren over its use. Her next-youngest sister insisted on second rights to the family car.

"He always leaves tips," Annie cooed in her ear one morning. "No one leaves tips."

"Okay," Liz grumbled. She had been up late and was facing a long day. "He leaves tips, hurray." The sarcasm in her voice dripped off of every letter in that last word. "But has he asked you out yet?"

"No. But nobody _dates_ anymore," said Annie. "I'd just be happy to, _you_ know!"

"Okay then. Good luck with that," said Lizzie who just couldn't show any concern that morning for Annie's lusting for the tall and rather good-looking Will (even if he did have a beard).

There _was_ the occasional day when Liz took Handsome Will's order. Usually it was because Annie wasn't paying attention to jump over to the check stand, or wasn't working. He was always curt.

"Latte," he'd demand, "nonfat." He never got anything to eat. He never ordered anything else. He never said thank you, but he did leave a tip, every time, in their communal tip jar. But that got divided up at the end of the shift. Sometimes Mr. Handsome Will's tip was the only one in it.

Some people had elaborate orders, some people changed them up, trying different drinks each time. Will was a man who knew his mind and stuck to his latte every day before going off to class.

* * *

Lizzie was enjoying a rare night out at the on-campus pub, The Night Owl, with Jenna and Lot when she asked Dylan the bartender (and a personal friend) to turn up the the music as it was a favorite song. Suddenly Handsome Will was at the bar next to them demanding Dylan turn it down. Will apparently had been studying and found it distracting.

"Who comes to a bar on a Friday night to study!" cried Lizzie in exasperation after Will had walked away.

"Well, we're all college students here. I guess he doesn't want to be stuck in his apartment all the time," said Jenna.

Jenna was Lizzie's older sister. She was older only by eleven months, but had a certain wisdom to her as if many years older. Jenna was far more tolerant than Lizzie.

"He's incredibly good-looking," said Lottie. "I didn't know that Nor Cal University (1) has ever boasted such a hot guy."

Lottie was a friend and neighbor to both of the Bennet sisters. All three of them were Santa — (2) locals. Locals who never left town to go to college. Sometimes they resented those who came to their town; sometimes those students who chose to come to Nor Cal University resented the Townies who never left.

All three women worked to help put themselves through school. There were times—often over a drink—when the constant irritation of juggling it all had to be expressed.

"He buys a latte every morning before going off to class," said Lizzie as his tall figure disappeared into the crowds. "Money there if he's not brewing coffee at home like we do."

"So…you know him?" Lottie nudged Lizzie with an elbow. She had been waiting for Jenna and Lizzie at The Night Owl and already was at least one drink ahead, probably two. Her elbow missed Liz', and she slide down so her head was lying on the bar.

"No I don't!" snapped Lizzie, who pushed at Lot with a hand. Lottie stayed where she was.

"I think you're protesting too much!" sang Lottie from inside her arms.

"I think you've drunk too much!" sang Lizzie back to her.

"I think we need to get Lauren to pick us up," said Jenna, looking at the pair of them.

"Say…Liz," interrupted Dylan. "I'm off at eleven tonight. Hookup?"

Dylan and Lizzie had gone to high school together. They'd tried getting together a couple of times, but Lizzie hadn't found the experience very thrilling.

"Nah. I have to be in the lab almost all day tomorrow," she brushed him off. "I need _some_ sleep." Throwing him a compliment wasn't the best strategy as he'd only keep asking her.

"Okay. See you next Friday," said Dylan.

Jenna got a hold of their seventeen year old sister, Lauren, to pick them up. Though Lauren protested loudly that she was not an Uber service, she still came as their mother rarely let her drive the car that late, but Ms. Gardiner didn't want to come in this instance. Lauren would probably insist on stopping somewhere either coming or going.

Lizzie and Jenna went to The Night Owl the following week. They hadn't intended to go. Lottie was at a meeting of the Young Christians on Campus, so it was just the two sisters. But it was Friday night again; Jenna and Lizzie couldn't always be at home with two other sisters and their mother at home. They had both perfected the art of nursing one drink—because they were cheap. Their college budgets didn't cover drinking to excess, buying multiple drinks, _every_ Friday night.

It wasn't terribly busy that evening. Likely it would be packed the next week when it was Family Weekend. The two sisters mainly sat at the bar and talked about what Jenna would do when she graduated at the end of the year.

"Art history, I don't know why I stuck with it," moaned Jenna.

"Because you love it," Lizzie reminded her for the ten thousandth time.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do with it," sighed Jenna.

"Interior design. You talk about it all the time," reminded Lizzie.

"Why didn't I _major_ in it?" This whole conversation was an oft-repeated one.

"Because you didn't want to go away for college," chided her younger sister.

"And there's so much about _business_ that I don't understand. It seems that an interior designer ought to know how to run her own business," moaned Jenna. She was on a roll.

"Well, get an MBA next, and then start your own design firm!" suggested Lizzie.

"Ha! Like I can afford it!" Jenna pushed her empty drink glass out from in front of her. "I think I'm done."

"Another beer," said a voice next to Lizzie's ear. She looked to see Handsome Will standing there. She kept her sideways gaze on him, but didn't say anything. He looked over at her.

"You're the woman from the coffee shop. I recognize you from the back," he said.

"What!" cried Liz.

"I've seen you in the coffee shop. In the Memorial Union. Your hair—it's distinctive," he nodded vaguely.

"Yeah. It drives my mom crazy," said Lizzie. Her mother had thrown quite a fit when Liz had come home the first day of college with her sassy, asymmetrical haircut. It went from over the ear on one side to chin length on the other.

"Yeah, well, see you around," he said as Dylan handed him his beer. Will slapped money down on the counter to pay for it, and walked away.

"What do you suppose he meant by _from behind?_ " asked Lizzie as she turned to her sister. "I'm always serving him drinks, looking him in the _face_. What is he doing, stalking me?"

"I don't know," said Jenna. "Perhaps he's noticed you at other times? The MU is your go-to study place. You're always in front of that darn fireplace. Maybe he likes you?"

"Nobody _likes_ anybody in college," objected Lizzie. "I think perhaps he _is_ stalking me. I may need to be careful."

They had wrestled the car away from Lauren that night, and with only one drink in her belly, Jenna felt safe driving them home. Lizzie hated driving at night.

* * *

Most afternoons, Will Darcy sat in the Memorial Union coffee shop with his architecture books spread out in front of him. He liked the big tables because they fit his books, spread wide, in front of him. He could also get up to have his coffee refilled whenever he needed.

The library was too noisy. There was a quiet floor, but students staked out the tables too early in the day. The constant discussion of scholarly topics, and thrum of voices on the other floors in the library hit his ears in a jarring manner. But there was something about the background noise in the Memorial Union that didn't bother him when he tried to focus on his studies. The conversations and noise there was different, even pleasant, or at least he could tune it out.

He could have studied at home, but the kitchen table was not nearly big enough, and Giana used that for her own studies anyway. Besides, it was just so easy to walk out of class, plunk his books down, get a cup of coffee, and study on campus before going home.

Will had noticed her the day that those two men had discussed The Rules. He had been so annoyed with her that it had taken many minutes to get back to work. He had only seen her from the back: that trendy haircut meant he had remembered her, it was distinctive. He found he could always pick her out when he was next in the MU. It wasn't that he _really_ needed to pick her out in a crowd as she, like him, sat in the Union every afternoon with books in front of her. He couldn't tell what she was studying, nor did he ever approach the table. His view of her table, of _her_ , was always of her back and that hair.

He observed, as September carried on, that her hair grew. She was not so fashion-conscious that she had her hair trimmed every second week to maintain _A Look_. He noticed one day that the right side, the longer side, was long enough now to reach her shoulder. She had tilted her head as she put her cheek against her fist as she read. The hair curled up then. He thought it must be very thick.

Will hadn't realized for a time that she worked at the coffee shop where he got his morning latte. There was a cute young woman who usually took his order. She had this little smattering of freckles across her nose that he admired and who was very friendly as baristas often are. But one day, Will got the leading view of the woman with the angled haircut. She was there in front of him taking his order.

He wasn't sure how he had imagined her looks. Will had some generic-faced woman, just a common, ordinary face. He was surprised by her face after having spent weeks seeing her from the back. It was a compelling face. He was hard-pressed to describe it as faces are often described in a book: round or oval or heart-shaped. (What exactly was a heart-shaped face?) Her chin was a little pointy. Her skin a little tanned. There were no freckles to be charmed by. She had very dark eyes. They looked back at him as he ordered his usual brew. He was surprised by that. But they weren't dark and forbidding. They seemed dark—and yet warm and inviting.

It was probably a week before she was in front of him taking orders again. He had nothing to say to her, though he stood for a few seconds and admired those interesting dark eyes. Will would steal glances then, whenever he would order his coffee. He noticed that she was often the one to prepare drinks while her freckled coworker took the orders. He could see her in profile. She had a little larger nose than most women probably wanted. It was long and thin and straight.

For now, she was just a distraction for him from his studies. It gave him a minute or two of something pleasant to look at, like when he admired the lines of a building, or a beautiful window, or freckles on a nose. Then he would go back to studying again.

* * *

One Sunday afternoon, Lizzie was finishing up lunch at home when Lottie walked in. The Lucases didn't live on Longbourn Way, but around the corner. Lauren was sitting at the table, having made herself some instant Ramen soup.

"You know that stuff is so bad for you," declared Lottie, pointing at Lauren's bowl.

"Hi Lot," muttered Lauren in return and kept eating.

"Coming from church?" asked Lizzie.

"Yeah," said her friend. "I just can't seem to get in the mood to study. I don't suppose you want to go for a walk, a short one?"

"Yeah," Lizzie drawled. "I spent all day in the lab yesterday. It would be good for me to get some exercise."

"Hello Charlotte," said a voice.

"Hello Ms. Gardiner," Lottie called back.

"You know you can call me _Bea_ ," said Beatrice Gardiner, mother to the four Bennet daughters.

"You know you can call me Lottie like everyone else," replied Liz' friend.

"It is such a pretty name—Charlotte—and Lottie, well, it sounds indecent or rude. And you know how much I hate old-fashioned names, so I think you'd be pleased I like _Charlotte_. It is one of the few older names that's okay in my book," said Bea Gardiner.

"Just never suited me, like Lizzie never was an Elizabeth," said Lottie.

"Exactly!" said Bea Gardiner. "I argued with her father that Elizabeth was too old-fashioned, but as I got to name Jenna, he got to choose Elizabeth." Lottie looked over at her friend and rolled her eyes. It was an old story, one often repeated.

"And M.K. was named by your husband as well," offered Lottie.

"Yes, poor dear. Has to resort to her initials." Bea Gardiner shook her head. "My girls call your mother Serena, have done for years. Why don't you try calling me Bea?"

"Because…" said Lottie and let her voice trail off without attempting to argue with a woman who wouldn't ever concede.

"Hi Lot!" said a high-pitched voice. There was no face or body attached to it. Lottie walked through the kitchen into the family room to find a small figure lying on a couch.

"Hi M.K.," she said in reply. M.K. was the youngest sister.

"Whatcha doing?" asked Lottie in a playful tone.

"Reading," answered the figure.

"Whatcha reading?"

" _The Me Guide to Growing Up_ ," said M.K.

"Mom's always been really big about keeping us informed about the facts of life," Lauren called over as she slurped her noodles.

"I seem to recall asking you and Jenna a lot of questions," said Lottie who looked at Lizzie. "Is that the same book you had?"

"No! She got me my own copy!" said M.K. happily.

"Yeah, I think by the time Lauren got a hold of the copy that Jenna and I had, with you and Maria thumbing through it as well, we needed a new copy!" They all laughed.

"Besides, I think things have changed in the ten years since Mom tried to explain the facts of life to Jenna," said Lauren.

"I don't think the facts of life _change_ ," asserted Lizzie.

"Sure they do," said Lauren, who sat back in her chair. "It's not just black and white anymore. Everything's a spectrum. Maybe you like boys," she held up one hand, "maybe you girls," she held up the other, "maybe you do both." Lauren wiggled her fingers.

"Oh," said Lottie, who blushed a little. Lizzie always thought it funny that her friend or anyone _blushed_ anymore.

"Wait, do they cover that in your book, M.K.?" asked Lizzie.

"Maybe," said the youngest, in a shier voice.

"You have always discussed sex and sexuality rather openly for a family," said Lottie who was still blushing.

"Well, it's Mom," whispered Liz. She turned to look for her mother, but Bea had apparently walked off to do some chore like cycle the laundry. "You know she became disillusioned about relationships when Dad left, but it meant we were well-informed about sex," she said in a normal tone of voice.

"Not disillusioned, _freed_!" called Bea from the laundry room. _"Freed_! In fact I'm thinking of having a nice dinner tonight to celebrate my years of freed-dom!"

Lizzie made bug eyes at Lottie to say, _don't encourage her_.

Almost eleven years after their father had left, their mother was still bitter. He had woken up one morning, ate his breakfast, and then proceeded to pack all of his clothes in assorted suitcases, all without saying a word. Beatrice came in to ask what he was doing.

"Just not what I thought!" had been his answer.

"What isn't what you thought?" had been Bea's next question.

"Fatherhood," he said.

M.K. had been just over a year old. She'd been a surprise baby, not planned.

"What's that mean?" Bea had snapped.

"I don't want to be a father anymore," Thornton Bennet had declared as he finished packing. "You can keep the lot!"

He had meant it, leaving eleven year old Jenna, ten year Lizzie, six year old Lauren, and the baby behind.

Bea often complained that he took her favorite suitcase in the bargain. The courts had something to say about child support, but Thornton Bennet found a new job, a new house, and a new life all in Southern California, leaving Beatrice to raise the four girls.

* * *

(1) Nor Cal University is an entirely fictitious university.

(2) This is a nod to Austen, throwing in a long dash instead of a name. I've set the story in a generic California town, 'Santa —' . All of the town names in California in this story are fictitious.


	2. Interests Besides Schoolwork

Chapter 2: Interests Besides Schoolwork

The next weekend was Family Weekend. Since Jenna and Liz and Lottie were all Townies (and they all lived at home), nobody was coming to visit _them_. They avoided campus where all the homesick freshmen had parents swarming around, bringing them goodie baskets, taking them shopping, and in general disrupting a lot of other students' routine. All of the Townies and a lot of the upperclassmen disliked Family Weekend. Some of them recalled being sad and lonely freshmen longing for family contact, though they could agree that adulting was hard.

But it was difficult to be at home, in the Bennet-Gardiner home, all weekend. Lizzie had finagled it that she could avoid going to campus to the lab so as to avoid the general craziness there, but it meant dealing with with craziness at home. She knew she ought to find a non-campus alternative for studying, but she never did. If she wasn't at home, she was in the Memorial Union or the biology lab. Lizzie was quite the creature of habit. Sometimes she would walk over to visit the Lucas' house, but more out of sentiment than out of trying to find a quiet place to study. There were five children in the Lucas family, and three boys. Mr. Lucas had not had the audacity to leave Serena Lucas to raise her children by herself, and it was just as chaotic and noisy there as at her own house with so many people.

By eleven on Sunday morning, Lizzie had had enough of family togetherness. She and Jenna shared a room—while Lauren and M.K. shared—so even her room was no sanctuary. Liz needed to get away. It was too early to hope that Lottie would be back from church, so she took the keys when no one was looking.

"I am going to run an errand," Lizzie lied as she went out the door.

"No fair!" cried Lauren. But there was no answer as Lizzie shut the front door. Bea must have been in her room and not heard or did not object. Lizzie stole away, driving tentatively as she still felt unsure behind the wheel. She rarely took the car so felt that telling a white lie about running an errand was acceptable when she knew she planned to stay out far longer. Lizzie was going to a park, but not one with equipment for preschool children, this one had many acres with hiking trails. It was the same one she and Lottie had gone to the week before.

It was a beautiful fall afternoon, like all Northern California afternoons are. It would be tempting to allow herself to get lost on the hiking trails, and stay all day, and to forget her studies. But Lizzie allotted herself just one hour. She had a favorite ramble and knew she could cover its length, and move through its inclines, in the one hour time-frame.

It was as she was heading back down the slope, with hot weary feet, a body glowing with sweat, but feeling happy to have gotten out of the house when she spotted a figure (one which was becoming a little too familiar), in the path below. Handsome Will was stretching like he was going to go running. She didn't think the trails were suitable for running. They were too uneven; there were too many gopher holes. And there was the threat of mountain lions if you were out at sunset. She wondered if he knew about that if he had just transferred here? Perhaps she might mention it to him if they ever had more than one sentence conversations.

She clipped down the trail wishing she had thought to put water in a bottle to take with her when he straightened and saw her. He seemed surprised to find her here, as though he was not used to seeing her outside of the Memorial Union or the pub.

"Hi," Will greeted her, even if he was surprised.

"Hi," she replied. She got nearer. "Great day to get out," she added as he did not seem inclined to say anything else.

"Someone recommended this place just last week," he finally said. "This is only my second time trying out the running trails."

"Better than running on campus today with so many visitors," she added as she came up to him. "Well, I'll see you around."

She went to walk past him. He made some noise as though clearing his throat. "Um. I'm Will by the way."

"I sort of know that cause you order coffee most mornings, by _name_ ," she stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "I'm Liz…Lizzie. See you around."

There had been a number of texts, mostly from Lauren, but one from Bea asking _where was the car?_ but she ignored them. Lizzie was distracted by her thoughts as she got back into the car to drive home: _thoughts about his hair_. She wondered what happened to it after he went running, and he got all hot and sweaty: did it no longer stand up so beautifully? Did it fall down in a swoop over his forehead instead?

* * *

On Monday, when Lizzie took drink orders, Will spoke to her.

He said, "Lizzie," with a grunt, and then proceeded to ask for his "latte, nonfat," like he always did. That had been the entire exchange, but Annie noticed. Once he picked up his drink, Annie leaned over.

"What was _that_?" Annie asked.

"What was what?" brushed off Lizzie, whose mind was on her work. She was busy shuffling cups over towards Annie.

"Handsome Will. How come he knows your name?" cried Annie.

"I ran into him hiking this weekend," said Lizzie as she turned to go back to the register.

"But why would he ask your name and not mine?" exclaimed Annie.

"I don't know," said Lizzie, who nodded at the next customer. "I still worry that he's stalking me."

"He must like brunettes and not blonds," pouted Annie as she pressed the steam button on the espresso machine and let out a huge blast as an expression of how she was feeling just then.

Lizzie didn't think anything of Will's bothering to ask her name. She stared at that beard and still didn't like it.

* * *

Lottie came to find her that afternoon. Lizzie sat at her table in front of the fireplace in the Memorial Union as usual. It wasn't always lit, that fireplace. It was a gas one, with those ridiculously fake logs, but there was something about it that had always sparked Liz' imagination like she was in some Victorian drawing room in front of a Rumford fireplace, reading, with the bell-pull just out of reach. And that she could call a servant for tea whenever she felt like it. Of course, she could always stand and go get another cup of coffee or something to eat at the MU coffee shop. It was all quite similar to that fictitious drawing room in her head.

But Lottie came to find her as it was one place where they could talk privately, despite the hundred or so people surrounding them. At either of their homes, there were siblings listening in, no matter where they might try to talk.

"I've met somebody," began Lottie Lucas.

"Really?" Lizzie sat back to look at her friend, who had pulled up a chair and had both elbows on the table, her chin in her hands.

Lot had often bemoaned the fact that she couldn't do casual the way everyone else in college seemed to operate. She had tried and failed miserably at it. It wasn't as if she had dreams of romance. She just couldn't be casual about sex. She needed a connection with a potential partner, even if it was just a date. It perhaps didn't help that Lottie got a little too relaxed when she drank, which scared her a little.

"Yeah," said Lottie. "There's a new guy in our group. He just joined."

"Why didn't he join at the beginning of the semester?" asked Liz.

"I guess he was taking time to get settled in and find his way around campus," speculated Lottie, who shrugged her shoulders.

"I suppose that makes sense," agreed Lizzie. "So he's _new_?"

"Yeah," said Lottie. "Transfer student. He's gone to community college. He's younger than me." She made a funny little face as she still leaned on her hands.

Lottie was a senior, but she had taken a gap year. She had not gone off to do some wonderful internship or pursue some terrific job like some people do who opt to do gap years between high school and college. Lottie had merely worked. She worked two jobs to be able to afford college in the first place (and still worked now). She was a year older than Jenna, but now she and Jenna were both college seniors.

"Does it matter?" asked Lizzie. "If you like him?"

"No. It doesn't. Because we like each other," agreed Lottie.

"What's his name?" prompted her friend.

"Billy Collins."

"Sounds like he's a rock star!" said Lizzie with a little laugh.

"Don't go there," said Lottie. "Don't make jokes."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier, this weekend? Aren't your group meetings like Friday nights, or every other Friday night?" asked Liz.

"Yeah," said Lottie. "But he came to church." She almost whispered _that_ part.

"That's a big deal," Lizzie sat up a little in her chair.

Lottie, who was a regular church goer in a society (college students) which thought more of sleeping in on Sundays than going to church, smiled and nodded her whole head. "I did swing by after church, but you'd gone to run errands."

"I had to get out of the house. I went hiking at Butte Valley Park," explained Liz. "I saw that Will guy again."

"Did he follow you?" asked Lottie, who sat up and let her arms fall down on the table.

"No, it was just…random. He was trying the trails out for running." She glanced down at her books, but Lottie seemed inclined to linger. "You know he's new this year too." Lizzie picked up a pen and started fiddling with it. "I wonder if he didn't do the same thing? Go to a community college and transfer here this year?"

"Yeah, you'd think with that memorable face that we'd remember if he was here last year," said Lottie, who watched the pen twirling in Lizzie's fingers.

"It's not like there aren't a billion people on this campus though," sighed Lizzie, who looked around at the multitude of tables which were mostly full. She looked over and noticed that Handsome Will was sitting not too far away. "Speak of the devil, there he is." She stopped twirling and pointed with her pen. "I wonder if he can hear us?" she added as she stared in his direction. But Will continued to look down at the book in front of him.

Lottie hung around and shared more details about Billy Collins, the not-a-rock-star.

* * *

Jenna came home that week with an invitation to the annual campus art show and party. It had a harvest festival theme as it always took place just before Halloween. It was a big deal as it was only open to upperclassmen, included the artists-in-residence, and sometimes included surprise guests. Jenna stopped to sit on the couch as she discussed the party. Lizzie had been studying, but put aside her books for her sister. Jenna was excited to attend as she had skipped it the year before, but did not want to go by herself, and insisted that Lizzie not schedule anything on that particular Friday evening.

"I'm in the lab all day, the next day," moaned Lizzie.

"We can leave early. We don't have to stay too long," argued Jenna.

Lizzie made a face. "I think I'm just a little too homegrown for swanky affairs. Besides, I always feel under-dressed."

"Why don't you call your father and blackmail some money out of him," Bea called out; she was still up grading papers. It was late, and Lizzie felt she ought to go to bed with her MU coffee shift in the morning. But Ms. Gardiner was a professor at the Santa — Community College, and like her daughters, had responsibilities before she could go to bed. The Community College had been where both their had parents worked until Mr. Bennet had left to find a job in Southern California.

"Mom…" said Lizzie who drew out the word. She got tired of arguments about her father and money. Mr. Bennet had walked away and said he wished to have nothing to do with his children. But it didn't mean that his children wished to be completely separated from their father. Over the years, they had reached out to him, and had varying levels of success in communicating with him.

Lizzie was studying biology, the subject Mr. Bennet taught, which seemed to please him (even if she had chosen _plant_ biology). Because she communicated even infrequently with her father, Bea thought that Lizzie ought to ask him for money beyond the childcare he sent for Lauren and M.K.

"I don't think I can still be considered a dependent of his, Mom," said Lizzie. She'd gotten to the temple rubbing and pen-twirling stage of the night which meant her brain couldn't absorb any more information. She really ought to go to bed. Liz wasn't as much of a night owl as Bea and Jenna were.

"I don't see why he shouldn't send you the occasional gift though," argued Bea as she scratched a big D on a paper and circled it in red ink and set it aside. Bea Gardiner's background was sociology, but she taught gender and equity studies now. "I don't know how these young people think the world works sometimes," she quipped as she slapped her red pen down on the paper that she had just marked. "I really don't."


End file.
